


The Sight of You

by orphan_account



Series: Winteriron Prompts [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, I Tried, M/M, Musicians, YouTube, but more music than YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had there been no piano sitting in the living room, Tony Stark would have become everyone's favorite mouthy, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. But Maria Carbonell Stark couldn't live without the picture perfect baby grand and Tony couldn't sate his curiosity fast enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sight of You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [Imagine Tony and Bucky](imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com). In response to two anonymmous prompts:
> 
> _"Imagine if both Bucky and Tony are both very famous youtubers who bickers a lot because their channels' topic is similar (firearms, tech, engineering?) but their views are different so they just keep sending video replies back and forth until it turned to texts and emails until they decided to meet up when one of them is in the same town. Of course they both are like 'oh no he's hot' and eventually they date._
> 
> _"Imagine one of them is a classical musician taking lessons at Juilliard or something and the other is an up-and-coming rock star. Everything about them should clash but they meet at one of their concerts and hit it off."_

Had there been no piano sitting in the living room of their mansion, Tony Stark would have continued his way through every piece of machinery that occupied his interest. He would have inherited the company from dear old dad at age twenty-one, and become everyone’s favorite mouthy, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. He would have revolutionized the weapons industry and become more than his father could have ever hoped to be. But Maria Carbonell Stark couldn’t live without the picture perfect baby grand, and Tony couldn’t sate his curiosity fast enough over those black and white keys. Just one day, age three, he toddled over to the instrument, struggled onto the bench, and proceeded to play out every children’s melody he could think of, after a brief second or two of random plunking. Mother was thrilled and no amount of browbeating would move her from hiring her son a piano tutor.

 

Some would cut this short by stating the rest is history, but that’s trivializing how Tony’s future was irrevocably changed from the moment fingers met keys. Engineering certainly became Tony’s past around age seven, when he couldn’t separate “engineering” from “weapons”, and thus “destruction”. Music could never destroy. Music was only created and inspired creation. And that’s all Tony wanted to do. Occasionally he would work on a robot or a car engine, but engineering became the hobby and not the lifestyle. The lifestyle became hour-long warm-ups with three-hour practices each day and ended with a few idle hours composing. Perhaps Howard would interrupt with a lecture on responsibility and legacy, pushing the child down to the workshop to learn something new about mechanics. Perhaps Tony’s composing would inspire an upgrade to his favorite robot (it was kind of amusing to call him “Dummy” because he was a learning AI, the very opposite of dumb). But take away the music for longer than that, and Tony’s life would be empty and endlessly frustrating. What’s the point of music if he couldn’t devote his life to it?

Around age fourteen, his love for music grew exponentially thanks to the Sharp Shooters. If Howard or Maria asked, he was listening to a new band who didn’t ascribe to a single genre. In truth, he was listening to the Dare of the Week from one of the newest and most popular music channels on YouTube. It didn’t matter if they were asked to sing a Beatles song backward or turn the happiest song into the creepiest, the Sharp Shooters always excelled in whatever music challenge was presented to them. It also didn’t hurt that they were two very attractive men (they could’ve still been teens, but they were definitely older than Tony). The blond was known throughout the community as Hawkeye, thanks to that video of him playing Paganini’s 24th Caprice on guitar blindfolded. But it wasn’t the blond Tony drooled over. It was the Winter Soldier. Even with as active as he was in the community, Tony wasn’t sure how the blue-eyed wonder took on such a name. The soldier part was no doubt from the collab video he did with Peggy and Steve Rogers singing “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B”. The Winter part? Tony didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. All he remembered was how well that uniform sat on Tall, Dark, and Handsome’s frame.

And so Tony watched on from the safety of his room, continuing his lessons and hobbies, never believing he could make a life out of music the way these two did, no matter how hard he wished for it. Of course, age seventeen rolled around and taught him that age-old adage: “Be careful what you wish for.”

* * *

Rhodey blinked blankly. And he blinked again. “You’re… dropping out of MIT?”

Tony rolled his eyes as he finished packing up the sixth - or was it tenth - box of tools. “Yeah, Rhodey. As I’ve said the last couple weeks, I’m planning on going to Juilliard. It’s about time, too, I’m getting hives whenever I go to my classes. No humor, the lot of them.”

“I thought you were kidding. Hell, I thought you were having a psychotic break. I mean music, Tones?” Tony turned to see that Rhodey was confused and worried about him. Which was sweet and all, but really, did he really have to choose now to get all lovey-dovey? Rhodey stepped forward, looking all the more determined. “You kept insisting it was a hobby, a de-stressor. Not to mention you are amazing, a genius at engineering. Not trying to kill your hopes, but there is a far greater demand for engineers than musicians. You practically have a job waiting for you once you graduate with your, what, second Ph.D.?”

“It’s not about the job, Rhodes,” Tony muttered, turning back to his almost barren lab. “Yeah, if I cared about job security, I wouldn’t move a single inch out of what I’ve always been doing. I’d be even more famous than my father, pushing the world into a new technological era. But… when you get down to it, it’s just cans and wires, Rhodey. Nothing lasts in the tech world; you have to change everything within a couple years. I want to make something that doesn’t have to be updated or rebuilt or replaced. I want to make something that makes a difference and still lasts forever. If engineering won’t get me there, then music will.”

“That’s,” and Tony braced himself for the inevitable accusation of insanity, “that’s actually… wow. I didn’t think you could wax lyrical like that.” Tony stilled in surprise, especially when Rhodey’s hand clapped on his shoulder in support. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He restrained himself from the truth - “Ever since my first music lesson” - because then Rhodey would get even more soft on him and start calling him adorable or some shit like that. “A while. With… everything going on, I was just reminded that I didn’t have to keep it a hobby. I can actually do something with this. I can stop performing in private.”

Rhodey snorted, turning Tony so he couldn’t avoid whatever he was going to say next, smirk and all. “You mean you can stop hiding behind the camera during one of your little YouTube videos.”

Tony sighed, hanging his head. He thought he hid his YouTube channel from his friends pretty well. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, but rather he was worried they would look too much into it and start giving him sad eyes for not “pursuing his dreams”.

But it looked like it was too late now. Once Rhodey caught a scent, he’d never let go until he knew everything.

Dog jokes aside…“How long have you known?” Tony asked.

“Probably after the third time I saw Dummy wandering around our living room with a camera in his claws. Then it took some searching, but then I saw every video you put up on your channel.” Rhodey’s smirk widened until it was a full-blown smile. “Stark Tones? Really?”

“Okay, don’t judge me for my name choices, you’re half to blame for them, anyway. And I’ll have you know that the ladies dig it just as much as they dig me as an engineer.”

“Right. The _ladies_. Is that what they call smarmy bad boys now, or is that just you?”

Tony fought to keep the blush down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re such a liar, Tony. I have to admit, those private videos Mr. Winter Soldier keeps sending you were kinda hard to sniff out,” and oh god, he’s doing the dog jokes too, “but once I saw them? Damn near incriminating. If I didn’t know any better, I’d ask when the wedding is.”

Apparently, he could not contain the blush any longer. “Shut up, Buttercup, you know you’re the only one for me.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes but seemed to let it go as he dropped his hand and stepped around to help clean up the lab. “Alright, alright, no need to get all defensive. I know how it goes.” He briefly turned around and jabbed a dustpan in Tony’s direction. “But I swear, if he breaks your heart, I will find him and make him make an apology video. And it won’t be private.”

Tony continued to complain and annoy to the best of his ability as they sorted everything out. But secretly? It was a relief to know there was at least one friend who was ready and willing to stand up for him, even though he could stand up for himself. If only he had those kinds of friends back in boarding school.

* * *

The private videos weren’t exactly new by the time he moved to New York. In fact, they’d been around since Tony’s fourth video post. Thanks to Tony’s eidetic memory, he could remember perfectly how it all went down: it was the first time the piano was his melody and beat. Bucky, who’d been commenting on all the previous ones - what were the odds of him being one of the first viewers of Tony’s channel? - finally shared a link to an unlisted video where he gushed about how amazing it was to see the piano be a string and percussion instrument at the same time. Tony, high off of sleep deprivation, felt indignant and sent an email ranting on and on about how the piano was already a percussion instrument.

They spent four weeks arguing back and forth on the matter until Tony finally responded with his senses unobstructed by exhaustion and linked Bucky to a wiki page that settled the matter in his favor. Of course, Bucky is a jackass - such a beautiful jackass - and continued to insist he was the right one. The videos never stopped. Neither did the emails.

Just two days after his parents funeral, things started to feel more like flirtation and less about trying to out-sass the other. Tony somehow sent a coherent email while drunk to Bucky admitting that he was sure they couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t put his face on camera, Bucky was clearly doing the most work in keeping this communication going, and it was only a matter of time before Bucky realized that Tony was too much of a jackass to deal with, so they might as well end it now and spare Bucky the wasted energy.

Just a few hours later, he was emailed a video. Not a link to a video, but the video itself. Tony was hungover and felt like he deserved some more pain, so he spared no time in playing the video. Bucky looked pissed and proceeded to ream Tony for ever thinking their communication was anything less than what friends do for each other. The more Tony watched and rewatched the video, the more he was convinced Bucky was on the brink of tears throughout the whole thing.

“You aren’t a waste of space, Tony,” Bucky said resolutely - or more like pleaded. “I am not wasting time or energy on you by talking to you. It doesn’t matter to me that you don’t put your face on camera. You are still my friend. One of my best friends, in fact. Can’t imagine a life without you, really. So don’t you fucking dare stop talking to me just because you think you’re doing me a fucking favor and freeing me from some obligation. News flash: you aren’t. You’d be hurting me, but worse, you’d be hurting yourself. And I refuse to let you do that. I care about you too much to let that happen.”

Whenever Tony felt the doubts or the sense of hopelessness creep in, he would always replay that part of the video. It was enough to let him believe he could do anything. It was enough to let him believe his feelings weren’t so unrequited as he thought.

* * *

The week had been the best Tony had ever seen. He’d just began taking up the violin to begin his journey to a music composition degree, he had a whole month’s worth of videos scheduled for posting, and he just got word that Stark Industries was bought up and pulled out of weapons manufacturing. Apparently Virginia Potts, the CEO as of two days ago, wanted the leader of the technological age to be a symbol of progress and not destruction. Which was _totally_ not suggested to her by anyone who had great influence in the company. Because he _totally_ didn’t have any influence in the company now that he was just a performer.

And if he were to continue with that thought process, he _totally_ wasn’t trying to calm his nerves before he sent an unlisted video off to Bucky. That would be silly. He’s been in front of cameras before, ever since he was old enough to not make a fool of his family. If he could confidently lead an interview at the age of five, then he could send a private video for Bucky’s eyes only.

_Totally._

“Fuck,” Tony breathed, running his hand through his hair for probably the fourth time. “Idiot, you can do this. You were able to build an engine when you were six, you can send a fucking video to Bucky. Not… not a _fucking_ video, because if he’s not gay or bi then it won’t be appreciated at all. Totally lost on him, even after all the hard work you do for it. Ha, hard. God, fucking stop. Focus here, Tony, you can do this.” He took a deep breath, looked right to the camera - held aloft by Dummy, as usual - and decided now was the time to get it all out.

“So I have a new appreciation for your videos, because I’ve probably been running through a million different ways to greet you and not sound like a total dufus, and none of them weren’t awkward. I’m going to forgo the greeting because you know me, you know who I am. Or I’d hope so, otherwise you’ve got this amnesia-slash-early-onset-Alzheimer’s thing going on, and that would just be sad. I mean, maybe a little relief because then you can’t blackmail me into anything when I’m being a little shit, because you can’t remember any of my secrets, but mostly it would be sad to realize I’d have to tell you about me from the very beginning all over again. And if anyone is going to be the forgetful one in this relationship, it should be me because I already pretend I forgot everything about everyone, so I might as well… never mind, that’s not the point here. The point is,” he heaves in a deep breath and smiles, more genuine than he has ever smiled to his memory, “the point is I’m saying hi. And trying to not lose my shit while I send this video off to you. I know you’re probably floored after gazing at this gorgeous face, but please pay attention, I don’t wanna have to send the video and then email you everything I just said.

“This week has been awesome. I got accepted into Juilliard about a month or so ago, and you already know that if you’ve been reading my emails, but I got accepted and it isn’t some fluke like the paranoid side of me thought. They’re not blowing smoke up my ass, there’s no pandering to make me feel better. I actually have talent. Genius-level talent, which isn’t a surprise, given who I am. But that they actually believe that is a lot more reassuring than going into engineering and only listening to my own approval to ensure that I’m actually getting work done.”

“Anyway, I’m learning the violin this week. I’ve already got the stance and fingerings down pretty well, but they’re not making exceptions for me. Well, alright, there’s been a compromise. I continue to practice stance and fingerings for a week and they will push me forward to more complicated stuff. I bet you I’ll have Paganini down pat by the time we meet again for private instruction.

“Man, I still remember when Hawkguy played the 24th Caprice blindfolded. I don’t imagine I’ll be doing anything blindfolded, the visual of performing is much more attractive than drifting off into the random thoughts my head always likes to conjure up. But I’m pretty sure I can ace the 24th Caprice within the month. It’ll probably piss my teachers off, but they’re surprisingly resilient. Reminds me of Rhodey, but less military.

“How’s the music writing coming along? I know you said you were working on some tunes to send off to some record labels. But that was like a whole month ago. Please tell me you have at least one to go off of. I would hate to have to laugh in your face.”

And so Tony continued for another few minutes before wrapping up as unceremoniously as he started. Just another thing to add to his list of great things of the week. He actually had the balls to show his face to Bucky. Who he may or may not be crushing on.

* * *

So it went for a couple years, Bucky enchanting him with his beautiful… everything while Tony entertained Bucky with wits and asshole charm he couldn’t hold back. Ms. Potts - “I’m calling you Pepper,” he declared, only to receive a sassy, “Of course you are.” - also kept in touch, though it was more through impersonal progress reports and plans for different divisions. Anyone who thought Stark Industries was going to tank clearly didn’t anticipate Pepper’s sheer stubbornness and extreme competence in turning a company around a full 180°. Music was becoming more challenging, which just meant Tony was becoming more excited and more devoted to the craft. No surprises that his best week turned into the best two years.

Right up until Bucky didn’t reply to one of his videos.

At first, Tony assumed he was just busy. Bucky had been getting rejection letter after rejection letter towards what he called “the hit single everyone is dying to hear,” but he wasn’t letting it keep him down. He was still riding his bike to every record label that hadn’t rejected them, and a couple that had but seemed willing to be convinced. Tony had offered to help out, but Bucky insisted that he wasn’t even going to let Tony hear the song until the world could hear it.

“It’s that important,” Bucky had said, an unfamiliar look in his eyes. “Everyone needs the chance to hear it at the same time.”

So yeah, of course Tony thought he was just busy. It’d happened before when one of their emails or videos went unanswered for a couple days. Life could get in the way, no reason to hold that against each other.

But a couple days turned into a couple weeks, and then a couple months, and with every passing hour, Tony felt more and more agonized over it. Maybe Bucky had seen the video and just didn’t feel comfortable responding? Tony had asked if they could meet in person, if they could hold a conversation that was more two-way than what they were doing now. What if it weirded Bucky out? What if he was viewing Tony as that celebrity he used to be back before he was even an adult? Was he worried people would take pictures of them together, put it on the front page of every newspaper for the world to see?

After the third month, Tony started blaming himself, then pretending it didn’t matter and stopped making YouTube videos altogether. He was months away from his solo performance and then the performance of his senior score. He had more important things to do than care about some stupid online relationship that wasn’t going to last.

* * *

Apparently he hadn’t put his phone on vibrate because Rob Cantor’s “Shia LaBeouf” started playing. That was his “stranger danger” ringtone, and if Tony wasn’t so sleep deprived, he would have had the sense to not pick up his phone and continue focusing on the last movement of his concerto. Instead, he was in his usual scatterbrain mode, and picked it up saying, “Please tell me you’re going to bore me because I could really use the sleep.”

The line was silent for a second before a voice came over the line, “This is Tony Stark, right?”

The voice was familiar, and Tony couldn’t help when he went still at the sound of it. He hadn’t heard that voice in… going on four months, now. “Hawkguy?”

“It’s Clint. Surprised you didn’t know that. Buck usually talked about everything. Though I shouldn’t say I’m surprised. Barely knew you, and he wanted to keep you to himself.”

Tony’s heart raced at the name, but his stomach plummeted at the use of past tense. “What do you mean ‘talked’? Is… is Bucky okay?”

“He’s… he’s alive. Um, he’s, ah,” Clint cleared his throat, but his voice broke all the same when he continued, “he was in an accident. I guess ‘round the same time you stopped hearing from him, right? He… fuck, he was in a coma this whole time.”

Tony was really glad he was in a chair because he was sure his legs wouldn’t support him after that bombshell. “Coma.”

“Yeah. I’m, uh… sorry we didn’t let you know. But at the same time… I’m not? Like, you don’t wanna have to live with that hanging over your head. But yeah, we didn’t realize he’d been… been talking with you this whole time. Seriously, I thought Natasha was the one who’d be the one with the best-kept secrets. Um.”

Tony forced himself to keep breathing. “How did you find out about me, then?”

“He’s awake. Or, was, he kinda freaked out, about you, about… things, and pretty much made himself pass out again. He mentioned your name, and Tasha was able to figure out who you were, and we realized you probably had no idea. I mean, we didn’t even post a video on the channel. Just. Stopped abruptly. Sorry, um… fuck.” The last part was breathed out, or Clint had pulled the phone away from his ear, or Tony was about to pass out because he sounded so quiet and far away.

Tony pulled in a shuddered breath, ignoring the tears slowly rolling down his face. “What… what things was he freaking out about?”

There was a pause before Clint said brokenly, “He… he lost his arm.”

* * *

Despite the short drop from his hand, Tony’s phone was just as broken as he felt.

* * *

After the two-day sleep, Tony spent a good four hours hating himself. How could he have ever thought, for one flimsy second, that Bucky was the kind of guy to just drop him? That first video was looping through his head, those words echoing like they were in an opera house. Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without Tony, and Tony couldn’t imagine a life without Bucky. What kind of guy was _he_ to assume the worst about someone he cared for so much? Perhaps it was best they didn’t keep in contact anymore since Tony was a worse asshole than he thought possible.

But he would do one last thing for Bucky. One last thing to at least prove to himself that he loves Bucky, no matter how dickish he became. He marched down to Stark Tower, demanded to see Pepper, and upon bursting into her office, declared she needed to create prosthetics.

At first, Pepper was highly annoyed that he had the nerve to walk in without calling her, but she quickly changed her tune when she saw how terrible he looked. And if he looked as bad as he felt, then it was pretty fucking terrible. After she shooed away her assistants and shut the doors, she let Tony gush out everything. Bucky, the videos, the phone call. Everything. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he practically begged her to develop a biomechanical division, to research prosthetics and get to work on making them more functional than any other item on the market.

He was 70% sure he was going to cry again when Pepper reminded him she’d had a biomechanical department for a little over a month now, “though now I’m starting to see why it would’ve slipped your notice.”

The rest of the day, the month really, was sort of a blur. He was surprised, once he got out of the funk he was in, that he got anything useful done. His concerto was finished and submitted. His instructors were all confident in his upcoming solo performance. His blackout inventing from his MIT years seemed to now translate into blackout composition and performance. Not like it inspired much more confidence in him.

Though he’d fell out of the blackout whatever, the last couple months leading up to his senior performance were just the same: wake up, stumble through the day hoping Bucky didn’t hate him too much, go to sleep. It was frankly embarrassing and upsetting. He was supposed to be getting over Bucky. Whether or not Bucky reciprocated the feelings he had, Tony knew he was no good. The worst match to exist in the history of man. Well, besides Hitler. But fuck, even Hitler had a girlfriend. And that thought process often meant a downward spiral that could only be stopped with hours of piano play, to the point his fingers tingled from overuse. His instructors would be furious with him if they found out.

Eventually, the time came to step out on stage, smile and bow for the crowd and make the piano sing out basically everything he’d been bottling up. No, the performance’s title - “Ever Ours” - was _not_ a reference to how he felt, hoped, wished things had gone. It was merely a reference to Beethoven’s love letter to his immortal beloved. Nothing more. As he rounded up the hour-long performance with Liszt’s Consolation No. 3, though, he didn’t try to pretend. He didn’t try to deny that between their sass and flirtations, he let his crush become love. He let himself fall in love with a man who deserved so much better than him, and yet who he had hoped would choose him anyway. It was the denial that made him believe it was just a crush that went sour, and it was the denial that forced him to dash his own hopes, to crush his own dreams.

He was a man who had everything. And nothing.

* * *

“Ready for your debut, Maestro Stark?” Rhodey said, a small smile planted on his face.

“I was born ready,” Tony replied, straightening his bowtie in the green room mirror. “It’s the orchestra you should be asking.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have. Your solo oboist thinks she’s going to cry.”

Tony turned, frowning at Rhodey. “You’re shitting me.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Nope.”

“The piece isn’t that complicated. I checked, I played through all the parts on my own.”

“I don’t think it’s complexity so much as it’s emotional.”

“Emotional? For god’s sake, every piece is emotional, no matter where you go.”

“Tony. Don’t think I’m not aware you wrote this concerto during your breakdown.”

“It wasn’t a breakdown. I was mildly distressed.”

“It was a breakdown. You didn’t even replace your phone until Pepper resorted to calling me. I know you’re no engineer any longer, but you never go without a phone.”

“So it was a little breakdown. No big deal. Point is, it’s not that emotional. She’ll get over it once she starts in and gets to the arpeggios. Anyway,” Tony clapped his hands together, forcing a smile on his face, “shouldn’t you be getting to your seat? We’re starting in about five minutes. The orchestra is currently warming up right now.”

Rhodey sighed before pulling Tony into a tight hug. “No matter what’s been going on, how bad it gets, I will always be proud of you. Never forget that, okay, Tones? You and your guy can get through this, I know it.”

Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat, blinked back tears, and said in forced levity, “Aw, pookie bear, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I’ll always care, you child.” Rhodey gave him a pat on the back and then stepped away, his smile smaller yet all the more genuine for it. “Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

Tony smiled in return and gave a shallow bow. “With pleasure.”

That was, of course, thirty minutes ago. Why he was remembering it now, in the midst of directing the orchestra? Why wasn’t he giving his music the attention it deserved? Probably because he knew how it would end. He wrote it, he trusted his musicians to perform it to the best of their ability. He knew the ins and outs, the adagios and allegros. He knew exactly how this would end. With Bucky, he thought he knew how it would end. He thought he understood how it would all go down, and he trusted his prediction to give him the confidence he needed to make it through without uncertainty. Obviously, he was wrong. Obviously, he couldn’t predict that it would be him walking away and not Bucky. That it would be him to hurt Bucky while he was already down. No prosthetic could ever make up for that. And running away from his problems and pretending they don’t exist or letting the work sustain him wouldn’t ever make it go away.

Once again, the evening went along in a blur, but because he was distracted and determined rather than depressed and in denial. He had to get home. He had to make things right, apologize for what he had done, for how he had treated Bucky. He may not have realized anything was wrong, what with his life changing forever, but it was the intent that mattered. Tony meant to leave Bucky behind, meant to leave him when he probably needed someone to be there for him. So Tony needed to go home and make that video, tell Bucky the truth and how sorry he was.

And as soon as he could sneak away, he drove home and did just that. 

* * *

He hadn’t picked his Stark Tones channel back up. He didn’t think he’d ever go back to that. But that wasn’t the important thing. What was important was telling Bucky everything and keeping that line open between them. So the first video was the truth bomb, or at least partial truth: he never mentioned love or anything to hint at how he felt, but he did mention what was going through his mind when he didn’t hear from Bucky for those three months: the confusion, the frustration, the betrayal. He mentioned how he tried to forget Bucky and ended up hurting the both of them - hypothetically, Bucky still hadn’t replied - and he mentioned the epiphany and how he wanted to make things right. He also made it very clear that he wasn’t going to do that again. That no matter what happened, he was going to stick with Bucky and keep sending videos even if no response came, because Bucky deserved that faith.

And he continued to keep that promise. Bucky never replied, but Tony kept sending videos telling him about his day, about things going on around him, and his thoughts on current events/culture/new music. Anything that came to mind, he made sure to share. He also shared how he found out about the accident, how he felt when he heard that Bucky wasn’t blowing him off. He shared the accident that changed his life forever, how it made him feel, how what happened to him could never really compare to what happened to Bucky. He talked about his friends, Rhodey and Pepper. About his instructors at Juilliard. About the different careers that were opening up to him thanks to his senior performance and concert. Anything and everything, he was brutally, almost uncomfortably honest with Bucky.

He deserved that, at the very least. He deserved the world. Tony couldn’t give him the world, but he could give him the truth. The truth that wouldn’t risk Tony’s heart, as selfish as that was.

Another three months and nothing in response did bring Tony’s doubts into focus, but he didn’t let that stop him from keeping his promise. And he’s glad he kept with it, otherwise he’s not sure it would have culminated to what it did.

* * *

It was about four or five in the morning, and Tony was still not asleep. A melody had been circling around in his mind for the past week or so, but it never wanted to be pinned down. He’d tried his hand at it in the night, but it was still just as stubborn as it ever was. At least, the ceiling was bland enough he could see the quasi-tune dancing about. Or maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking.

His laptop, still set up from his previous composing attempt, pinged with a notification. The retro “you’ve got mail” caught Tony’s attention and he immediately rose even as he tried to deduce who was up this early in the morning. Of course, he didn’t conclude fast enough and the address it was sent from totally blindsided him like a punch to the gut.

> To: You
> 
> From: j.b.barnes@ymail.com
> 
> Subject: [blank]
> 
> im sorry you had to find out like that. i dont think ill be doing any vids for a long time. it takes so long to type. my brains all over the place. its gonna take time to see all your vids. ill respond when i can. im glad to know youre ok. dont be mad at yourself for what happened. not gonna lie i wouldve done the same thing. damn this is taking forever. please dont stop the vids. i love the sound of your voice.

Tony’s breath shuddered out of him and before he could think about it for too long, he ran to Dummy’s charging station. “Hey, you lazy bag of bolts, wake up! We need to send Bucky another video, right now!”

Once he had Dummy alert and ready with the camera, he immediately went into talking. “Hey, Buck, I’m really glad to know you’re okay. I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better, even if it’s not that much better. Every little bit counts, right? Don’t worry about trying to catch up with every one of them, you know I’m just going to keep adding to the pile, more so now that you’re replying. Um, so, right now I’m trying to write out a melody that’s been stuck up in here for a week. No dice, though I’m thinking today might be better than yesterday.” His lips quirk up at the corners. “Today is always better than yesterday. So, uh, I might try to get some sleep after this. I couldn’t sleep all night. But hey, you’re at a computer now. That must mean they released you from the hospital unless Clint’s been sneaking you a phone to get in contact with me.

“Oh, that reminds me of something that happened this past week…”

On and on Tony went until his throat was hoarse and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. He said a quick goodbye and sent it off to Bucky as quick as he could. He crawled into bed, finally feeling his lids turn to lead. If he were religious in any sense, he would say he was meant to stay awake just to read that and know Bucky was okay. As it was, he just thought it a very strong coincidence.

Even as he drifted to sleep, the notes and measures of the melody were finally starting to coalesce, and Tony couldn’t help the smile. Today was better than yesterday, but tomorrow was going to be the best.

* * *

Communication between them was slow at first. Bucky still had the one hand - though he didn’t like talking about it at all - but Tony was just fine waiting to see what the next email would bring. It was hard to read at first, once Bucky became more coherent and less optimistic about the world. Bucky never said it outright, but Tony could read between the lines and see that Bucky was devastated. So many instruments that he was so good at playing, and they were all impossible now. “The other musical amputees make it look like magic,” Bucky had mentioned once. Tony pointed out he could still play some piano, xylophone, and trumpet if he was extra dexterous with his pinky.

And he still had his voice. He could still sing for his band, and he’d only have to add maybe one or two extras to the group to compensate for instruments. It wasn’t the end of the world, there was still hope. If only Tony from half a year ago could see what he was spouting now.

The year progressed and seemed to be getting better. Bucky was getting better. He could type pretty fast, and he had set up a launchpad to help with a lot of the percussion they did that couldn’t be done on a drumset. All that meant his confidence was coming back as well. He was getting closer and closer to his bold, sassy self though he was still reserved and gave up to easy on some of their teasing tirades. He still wasn’t ready for video. He confessed that he didn’t think he ever would be. “I want you to remember me when I was whole, both physically and mentally.”

Of course, that was only rebutted with an angry video that went along the same lines as Bucky’s first. Tony was not going to stand by and let Bucky think he was lesser just for something bad that happened to him. He was sticking with Bucky, no matter what happened. He was never going to leave him behind. Just because he lost a limb did not mean that there was something irredeemable about him. And Tony would keep saying that until Bucky believed it.

Another year went by, and Bucky was starting to get back into the swing of things. They had yet to pick up their channel from where they’d left off though Clint did post a vid explaining their absence back when Bucky got out of the hospital. Bucky wasn’t so sure if they would ever get a record deal at this point, even when he reworked the song meant to be their first hit. But Clint had taken up the reins and was more determined than ever to find someone who wouldn’t be ashamed to have an amputee as their head vocalist.

Not that Tony minded, but he did wonder if Bucky had taken up a prosthetic. Every time he mentioned it, though, Bucky would try to avoid it with a vague, “Maybe.” He’d been approached by a few people about getting one, but he was still coming to grips with needing a fake arm. Tony dropped it after the first few attempts at mentioning it. If Bucky didn’t want a prosthesis, then he didn’t need one. He mentioned trouble with shaving, but other than that, he was almost back to normal. “As normal as I ever was, anyway,” Bucky joked.

* * *

A call came in one afternoon, the ringtone singing out “War Machine” to indicate it was Rhodey. This new piece Tony was working was coming along really well, so a break couldn’t hurt. So he turned and answered, saying, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“When’s the last time you turned on the radio?” Rhodey asked abruptly, forgoing his usual opening teasing and sass. Tony frowned, turning back to his laptop to bring up the local radio’s website.

“I’ve been working on an etude for the past couple weeks, I try not to muddy it up with Top 40s trash.”

“You need to hear this,” and the tinny melody coming through the phone matched the one emanating from his speakers. The song was slow, mostly acoustic guitar and a soft beat. And that voice… oh god, Tony knew that voice.

_“Can’t help but smile about you/Can’t wait till I can see your face/You’re everything I need in this whole world/Can’t you see, you’re no waste of space.”_

Holy shit. Did… did Bucky just sing him a love song? Is this really what he’d been hiding and waiting on until he was all famous and such? All those years ago?

“Holy shit,” Tony breathed.

“No kidding,” Rhodey was back on the line, the hauntingly beautiful song now only heard from his laptop. “Tones, you never told me your man wrote you a love song.”

“I… I didn’t think he had. I knew he had some song in line to demo to the record labels. But I was just crushing back then, so it never occurred to me that he’d write something like that. Hell, even now, it wouldn’t have occurred to me.”

“Uh huh. Well, you’ve heard it, now. What are you going to do about it? Another private video?”

Tony considered it. “Well, I was doing that tonight anyway, but no. This… I need to do something special for this.”

“Please don’t go overboard. I remember the rabbit you gave what’s-her-face, that was terrifying.”

“Uh… is writing a song overboard?”

Rhodey sighed. “Knowing you and witnessing that he just did the same for you? It’s unfortunately probably the most appropriate action.”

“Well, then I’m gonna have to hang up. Need a new etude from scratch in time for publishing and recording next week.”

“Could’ve been a goddamn engineer,” Rhodey grumbled right before hanging up.

* * *

Knowing what he did, about Bucky and his feelings, the etude came together surprisingly well. The best thing about it, he thought, was that no one else would be playing it first. After publishing and recording, he had a concert a few weeks away where he’d been advised to present his new work. It should’ve felt smooth for how easy everything was going, but Tony’s nerves decided to fail him this time around.

Apparently, it was obvious for Bucky to see, because not two days after he finished up recording, Bucky emailed him asking what was wrong. Tony made sure he didn’t mention hearing the song because that’s how the plan worked in his head, but instead mentioned the etude he was performing in a couple weeks. It was partially true, anyway.

“I was wondering,” Tony had said during one of the videos he sent, “and you’re free to reject this, no feelings hurt, but… I was wondering if you want tickets. I’m allowed to have two reserved for free and Rhodey’s taking one, he takes one whenever he’s back from wherever the hell the Chair Force sends him, but uh. If you want, that second one’s yours. But if you don’t want it, like I said, I won’t be moping around all miserable. I’m a big boy, I can deal when people have other things going on.”

Of course, being a big boy never meant he knew how to get his nerves in check. He paced the floor to the green room before the event managers ushered him out to walk on stage, smile his wide smile, bow, and begin playing the various pieces he had planned for the evening. Chopin and Gershwin were child’s play, songs he could do in his sleep, but they were important for the theme of the evening. The theme that no one would see on the program: “For Bucky”. He played the Raindrop Prelude to express all the warring emotions he felt for Bucky, Rhapsody in Blue to declare that they might not have met in person, but Tony knew him, knew him and would not flinch away from Bucky at his worst. A few other songs encompassed these messages, and soon it was time to stand and present his new song.

“So a lot of people wonder how an engineering genius like myself would end up becoming a musical genius instead,” Tony started out, keeping his smile firmly planted while he desperately scanned the audience in hopes of seeing any sign of Bucky. “Spoiler alert: I am the Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark. Anyway, my mother had this beautiful piano that I couldn’t keep my hands off of. Ever since I can remember, I was playing those keys like my life depended on it. Much to my father’s consternation. It would be easy to end it with my parents, say their death changed something within me, but that would be a disservice to the one person who changed my life forever.

“They were a musician as well, worked with a friend of theirs to provide music for the masses in a way no one really had before. I was, what, fourteen? I had been keeping my eye on them ever since I was a kid. They were probably a kid, too, I don’t know, I don’t ask people their age. I’m a gentleman like that.” His smile twitched even as the audience chuckled. Damn, where was Bucky? “Anyway, I started getting into the performing business as well, and apparently I caught their attention because next thing I know they’re sending me emails and messages to let me know that my work was valid, just as important as an engineer’s work.

“They made me feel like I was worth something, like I could change the world with my music. I found myself looking forward to and smiling at every email they sent me. I realized that I couldn’t imagine a world where they didn’t exist, that they were right when they told me I wasn’t a waste of space. And so I thought it only fair that I show my gratitude and every other little emotion that pops up whenever I think about them or hear from them.”

In the corner of his eye, something reflected a bit of the light in a way glittery gowns and small, expensive watches never could, and Tony couldn’t resist getting a quick peek that way. And then forced himself to not make his double-take so obvious because holy shit, that was Bucky right there with a metal prosthetic that looked eerily similar to the schematics Pepper had shown him - “And no, you’re not allowed to make any edits,” she had said with a sly smile. “You never did finish your Ph.D., remember?” Bucky, James Buchanan Barnes was sitting in the audience, looking a little rough around the edges but intent and so enraptured with what he was seeing. Tony could feel his smile relax into something far more genuine.

“ ‘My Blind Eyes’ is a simple but, hopefully, powerful etude to show that gratitude. To show my friend how much they mean to me and that I may not be changing the world just yet, but they’ve already changed mine. Thank you.”

From there, with the confidence and hope within his chest, performing the song was a breeze. Every uncertainty was finally bared to Bucky, every part of him that he had been too scared to admit. It didn’t seem pretty, especially since there was that doubt that he had misread everything. But hope pulled him through that doubt like it had before, and as the song moved into its uplifting conclusion, Tony hoped Bucky could recognize the question there: “Was I right in hoping? Are we really going to dance around this any longer? Will you let me love you?”

The world blurred somewhat upon the completion of the etude, applause deafening and encore agonizing in keeping him in suspense. Returning to the green room didn’t help much, either. He was caught between wanting to run out and find Bucky and hiding away in fear of what Bucky could say, what everyone would say about his original piece.

“Tony?” A voice stopped Tony in his tracks. He could not turn around fast enough to feast his eyes on Bucky’s uncharacteristically timid form. He still seemed as tall as Tony had assumed, but he was hunched in on himself as if he was ashamed. Whether it was of the new arm or of himself, Tony didn’t know, but he was determined to wipe that away. If Bucky allowed it, of course.

But the rest of him, oh, what a vision. His hair looked just as it had, but had that crispness about it that told him it had been cut very recently. His face was grizzled, making his cheekbones stand out even more than they had before… everything. And those eyes. God, the camera could not do them justice in the least. They were more a stormy blue than the piercing grey from his video’s lighting. He was seeing an old friend for the first time, and it could not have been a better one.

“May I come in?” Bucky’s voice snapped Tony out of his surprise, and he quickly invited him in before daring to look at Bucky’s face, into Bucky’s eyes once again.

The silence dragged for what felt like forever but was only a couple minutes at the most. While it seemed to do nothing to help Bucky’s nerves, it actually eased something tightly wound within Tony. He knew he could never find the proper words to say. That was why he wrote the song in the first place. But Bucky not finding the words to say? He was more the smooth talker between the two of them. His nerves getting the better of him in that respect had to mean he cared. It gave Tony hope.

“You never told me you were Tony Stark,” Bucky finally blurted out. Tony flinched, meant to apologize, but Bucky cut in, “I guess it makes sense, though. You’re still kinda popular in the public eye, and after you told me your first name, it wasn’t that hard to connect the dots. I mean, come on, Stark Tones? You pretty much spelled it out for everyone, they only saw your face.”

Tony smiled briefly, looking away briefly. “Yeah, I couldn’t help it. But the camera was angled to show the piano so my face would be safe.”

Bucky hummed in understanding, nodding. It was quiet for a bit longer, and Tony was about to step in again with something when Bucky said, taking a seat, “You showed me your face. You put your privacy at risk just so I could see you. And after the… later, you were the one being confident with the camera, putting me at ease with what you said, how you said it.”

“Well,” Tony took a seat slightly beside Bucky, “I’m glad I was able to be there for you when you needed me.”

Bucky nodded again, the quiet overtaking for a third time. Bucky looked down at his hands, folding them carefully before he asked, “ ‘My Blind Eyes?’”

“‘My blind eyes are desperately waiting for the sight of you,” Tony quoted quietly. “‘You don’t realize of course how fascinatingly beautiful you have always been, and how strangely you have acquired an added and special and dangerous loveliness.’ It’s from a love letter between two famous people I can’t remember the names of, but that always stuck with me.”

“A love letter.” Bucky snorted, looking at Tony with almost a giddy anticipation. “Fuck, you wrote me a love letter.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re both guilty of that, Buck.”

Bucky smiled, looking as full of happiness as Tony felt. “Yeah, pretty sure we are.”

“Though I have to admit mine is more refined. I mean acoustic guitar? So early 2000’s.”

“Fuck you,” but Bucky was laughing, and he started looking just like his old self, like nothing had ever gone wrong. “It’s much better than the overwrought, bass-heavy first draft.”

Tony shivered in exaggeration, standing. “Thank god for that. I didn’t fall in love with you just to see you turn into the next Nickleback.”

Bucky laughed again, standing himself and stepping closer, close enough that Tony could finally put his doubts to pasture. “Nickleback is a Canadian treasure, and you will not sully Canada.”

“So long as I get to sully you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, the smile never leaving his face. “That was terrible. Maybe you should try again.”

“Of course, what was I thinking? Now that we’ve met we should behave exactly opposite of ourselves. You be all submissive, and I’ll be blunt as my-”

The rest of his sentence was muffled and cut off by Bucky’s lips pressed against his, warm and inviting and doing remarkable things to Tony’s brain. It was only natural to reciprocate, and that groan was definitely not his. This was fine. This was good. He’d save the lewd, sassy jokes for later, after he got a better taste of Bucky.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this isn't my proudest piece. But after tackling these prompts for almost a month, I had to get something out of it. So here it is, in all it's unholy glory.


End file.
